


You Used To Call Me On My Cell Phone

by guti



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Dick Pics, Dirty Talk, M/M, Phone Sex, Sexting, Sexting gone wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 06:29:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5857699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guti/pseuds/guti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gary is finally convinced to send Jamie a dick pic, but unfortunately it all goes hideously wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Used To Call Me On My Cell Phone

By the time Gary left for Valencia, they were at the point in their relationship when late night phone calls were not an unreasonable expectation. They didn't happen every evening, but they occurred with enough regularity that it wasn’t unusual or anything. They’d shoot the shit for awhile, catch up on the events of the day, and when they were done with the customary crap, things would inevitably take on a harder edge… harder being the operative word. Pornographic was really a more apt term for the tone of the conversations. They would share, in vivid, lewd detail, just exactly what they wanted to do to each other the next time they met up. All those wild, wicked fantasies were laid bare, nothing was sacred in that realm, nothing was left to shame. These nights, spent up late, locked away in bedrooms, voices intimate and quiet, were perhaps the truest depiction of their feelings for one another. After all, a forty year old isn’t about to get into the habit of dirty talk over the phone for just anybody if he’s not really feeling it. But when it came to Jamie Carragher, Gary was fucking feeling it.

Texting, however, was a whole other level. The explicit phone calls he could handle, because he could hear how Jamie reacted, every hitch in his voice, the slushing of his accent when he was really into what was being said. When it was just words on a screen, there was no telling how Jamie was taking it. Maybe he didn’t like what he was reading. Maybe the mood had been killed somehow. He could never really be sure about it, therefor he didn’t like it.

But Jamie did. He confided, during one of those late night calls, that he liked to look back on the dirty messages Gary’d sent him, reread them later, and so on. Jamie thought they were hot, and because Jamie thought so, Gary sort of did by proxy.

He still preferred the phone calls though, and he said as much a few nights later, when Jamie was urging him to hang up and text him.

“But I like hearing your voice,” Gary said, not huffing at all, thank you very much. “I like hearing you breathing.”

“That sounds right creepy when you say it like that.”

“Don’t be a prick.”

“You’re not making a good case here, Neville.”

“I just like your voice when you say what you’ll do to me.”

“That what turns you on then?”

“Jamie.”

The scouse bastard just snorted at him, and across the line, across the sea, he could hear Carra settling into his bed. Gary sighed to himself, wishing quietly that he was there too, that this whole experiment in Spain would just be over and done with, sod it all.

“Gary,” Jamie said quietly, for him anyways, practically a whisper by his standards.

“Yes?”

“Send me a picture.”

Gary frowned, confused. “Of what?”

“What do you think?”

He was utterly perplexed, looking around his own bedroom for inspiration and finding none. “Of…?”

Jamie made an exasperated sound. “Of your dick, you dick.”

Alone in his room, Gary squirmed and felt his cheeks go hot. “What?”

“Send me a snap of your cock, mate.”

“No!” Gary gasped, mortified.

“Why not?” Jamie asked, sounding rather smug and far too certain that he would wind up having his way. Gary wanted to hate it when he took on that tone, but he knew, deep down, that he actually loved it.

“What’re you gonna do with a photo of my cock?” Gary stammered, sheets pulled up to his chin.

“I’m gonna wank to it,” Jamie said, matter of factly. “What do you think I’d do with it?”

“Jamie!”

“You’re forty-one years old, Neville. Don’t act like a wilting flower now.”

“I’m not! That’s just—”

“It’s crass, I know, but I’m being honest. Now are you gonna send me one or no? I’m wanting to get off tonight and if I’m just gonna have to go off memory—”

“Jamie!”

“I’ll send you one of mine.”

“Carra!”

He sighed loudly, “What? You not in the mood? Can’t get it up?”

Gary scoffed genuinely offended, “Of course I can get it up.”

“So get it up. I want you hard in it.”

He hesitated, contemplating for a moment, then let out a sigh. Truthfully, he didn’t mind the idea in concept, but being over the age of 25 he had an adverse reaction to the notion that sending out nudes was somehow an acceptable method of courtship. Call him old fashioned, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever be keen on the whole idea. But Carra liked it, and the thought of Carra pulling up a photo of his cock when he wanted to get off was a major turn on. So he resigned himself to this newfangled concept and gave his consent. “Alright, then. Make me hard, Carra.”

Jamie made a noise of surprise and satisfaction, and before Gary could change his mind, he dropped his voice to a low, teasing tone. “Wish you was here with me now. I fucking miss you, mate. I can’t stop thinking about you. Can’t stop thinking about that pretty little mouth of yours.”

Gary almost purred, feeling the initial stirrings of lust going straight to his dick. Jamie knew just what he liked. “Yeah? Alright, Carra. Go on.”

“You know the first thing I’m gonna do when I see you next?”

“Hm?”

“I’m gonna shove you down onto your knees.”

Gary inhaled, free hand slipping past the waistband of his pants, fingers wrapping around his already hard cock.

“Gonna shove you onto your knees and stick my cock into that dirty Manc mouth of yours and fuck your face until I come.”

Gary gasped. “Shit.”

“Yeah. And you, you’re gonna swallow all my come, little Manc slut that you are, aren’t you babe.” Jamie let out a laugh, calculated, almost sinister as he listened to Gary squirm. “You’re gonna swallow every last drop because you love it, don’t you. You love sucking me off, Gary, love it when I come in your mouth.”

“Fuck.”

“I know, mate. You hard now?”

Gary nodded, then remembered to speak. “Yes.”

“Take a pic for me, then. I’ll send you a text when I get it.”

“You’ll send me one back, too?”

“Of course, love. And a message. Something right pervy along with it.”

“You’d better be hard in it too,” Gary warned.

“Don’t you worry about that,” Jamie said. “I’ll send you a video of me wanking to your cock. How’s that sound.”

“Fuck,” Gary whined. 

Jamie laughed. “Hanging up now. Love you. Send me that bloody picture now, Gary.”

Gary didn’t even hesitate, though he did make sure he took the snap at a flattering angle, one that made his cock look its very best. He took a few, actually, and he scrutinized them before selecting the very best photo of the bunch. Then he scrolled through his phone contacts until he reached the entry for Jamie and constructed the perfectly phrased message to go along with the image.

`Wish you were here to take care of this. xx`

And then, after an excruciating minute spent analyzing the message for typos and the image for anything unflattering, he hit send.

And then he waited. He waited for five long, painful minutes. Five minutes with nothing. Not a single word, not even an emoji of acknowledgement. It all had him rather annoyed. Not that he expected Carra would rub one out in a matter of seconds, but a receipt would have been appreciated. Three more minutes passed before Gary finally took matters into his own hands and sent a follow up message.

`You get that, Jamie?`

This time, the response arrived right away.

`Sure did, Gaz. Just not sure what to do with it.`

Gary stared at his phone, frowning. What was that supposed to mean? Hadn’t Jamie been the one practically begging for the picture? Brows furrowed, he typed out his reply.

`What do you think you’re supposed to do? Fucking wank to it. Daft.`

The response came quickly again.

`Are you sure about that???`

Gary was aghast, offended, even.

`Yes. And send one back, you bastard.`

A moment later, the reply came in.

`If you insist.`

Gary held tight to his mobile, impatiently waiting for the text to arrive, and when it did, he was beyond horrified. Rather than the photo he’d been expecting, the attached image was one of a massive salami set on a kitchen counter, adorned with a glittery anime-style frame and fuzzy filters. The message attached was also unexpected.

`Mm. So meaty. Sort of puts you to shame don't it.`

Gary gasped, offended once more, angrily stabbing out a reply.

`Oi, bastard. Quit fucking around and send me a pic of yours.`

He waited, choking as a thought suddenly occurred to him. He’d been in Carra’s kitchen. That wasn’t Carra’s counter. He stared at his phone, slowly fiddling around to check for something when the last reply arrived and he was face to face with the attached image of Jamie Redknapp’s grinning face. In that instant, his boner was dead and gone.

` LOL wrong Jamie! `

The sound Gary made was one of absolute horror. Furthering his anguish was the series of messages that followed. He recognized just about every phone number in the bunch. Leave it to fucking Redders to have accumulated the numbers of every person who’d ever had a call up for England, plus probably everyone he’d ever spoken to at any point in time in his entire life. 

`Group text time! How’s it, lads?`

`Who is this? Do you know what time it is?`

`What’s up, Redders?`

`How did you get this number?`

`No really, who is this?`

`stfu plz`

`OMG hai!!!!!!`

`Go back to sleep.`

`new phone who dis`

`No.`

`Shut up.`

`Hello!`

`Redders! What’s up, mate?`

`Right everyone so I just wanted to forward this photo to you all. Turns out our boy Gaz can’t properly use his phone.`

`Huh?`

`wot?`

`It’s two o’clock in the morning. Why are any of you awake? Please stop this madness and go back to bed.`

`Just a second I have to show you lot what Gaz just sent me.`

Gary screeched and quickly started to send a response. He was mortified enough as it was, he didn’t need the photo send to everyone in Jamie Redknapp’s address book. He’d fucking beg Redders not to send this pic if he had to.

`DONT DO THIS I SWEAR TO CHRIST IT WAS AN ACCIDENT NO STOP PLEASE DO NOT DO NOT JAMIE PLEASE DO NOT`

No one said anything for a moment, which meant, to Gary’s mind, that his intervention had worked. But he was soon proven wrong when his dick pic was send to the entire group. He screamed again. The response was immediate.

` WTF is that?`

`NO `

`STOP`

`GROSS`

`WHO IS THAT???`

`LOL!!!`

`why are you sending me this?`

  


`nice ` `lol jk `

`Gaz is that your cock?`

`Why’s Redders got a pic of Gary’s cock?`

`Gary. I know I’ve specifically said that I never want to see your cock again and yet here it is on my phone at two o’clock in the morning. Please never send me this again. We’ve discussed this multiple times already.`

`WTF!!!`

`Gaz why do you keep sending Scholesy pics of your dick?`

`hahahahahahahahaha gaz u dog! `

`He does not send me photos of his dick and I would like to keep it that way. Please stop. We've talked about this. I am serious this time.`

`lol seen it already m8`

`where is it?`

Gary screamed for the third time that night and was about to throw his phone out the window (and also himself, probably) when that infernal device began to ring. To his surprise, the name that popped up read Jamie Carragher. Panicked still, he answered.

“Jamie?”

“Mate,” Jamie sighed, sounding tired. “What’s the hold up?”

Gary’s voice was a bit shaky. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I sent you mine twenty minutes ago and you never sent one back.”

Eyes wide with horror, Gary started to check his inbound messages, finding nothing recent from Jamie Carragher, along with the dozen or so messages commenting on the size and shape of his dick, along with his photography skills. Screaming internally, he pressed the phone back to his ear.

“I never got it, Jamie. Are you sure it went through?”

“Sure I am. It’s got a read receipt on it and everything.” 

“Well I never got it.”

He could practically hear Jamie rolling his eyes. “Then who’d I send a pic of me cock to?”

And then, it was Jamie’s turn to have a moment of horror as he scrambled with his phone to check the texts logs, and it was Jamie’s turn to scream in terror as he realized he’d not sent that message to Gary Neville, but had instead sent the message to the recently single Gary Lineker.

“Oh fuck.”

“What’s the matter?” Gary asked, fully concerned.

“Lineker’s texted me back.”

Gary’s eyes went wide. “What’s he got to say, then?”

Jamie cleared his throat, barely able to get out the words. “He says, ‘Thanks for the offer, Carra. As you know, my divorce has been very hard on me. That said, I'm sorry I'm just not interested right now. Maybe some other time’. And the bugger’s sent it with those praying hands, like I need to get right with Jesus. Fuck.”

“Fuck is right.”

“Can’t believe I sent Lineker a photo of me cock.”

Gary couldn’t help it, he had to laugh. “Well if it’s any consolation, I accidentally sent one to Redders.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah. And then the bastard forwarded it to everyone I’ve ever met. Now they’ve all seen my cock.”

“We’ve all already seen your cock, Gary.”

“Well, yes, but not like that. That was incidental before. This photo was…” Gary paused, searching for the word. “It was a damn good photo, alright. My cock looked splendid as fuck in it.”

Jamie howled with laughter. “I’m sure.”

“It did. Look, I know my angles, alright. And I was hard as hell, Carra, just like you asked for.”

That set something off in Jamie and he let out a low moan. Gary could tell then that he was touching himself, and so, without further coaxing, he started touching himself too, and by the time they’d talked each other through their orgasms and fallen asleep for the night, the whole debacle was forgotten. Before they hung up though, they both came to the conclusion that dirty talk beat dirty text any day, because at least this way they could deny some of the evidence, in case things ever went south. So it was settled, and everything was fine, and when they hung up, they made dirty promises to each other and they were both happy as clams.

That is, until Gary woke up to thirty-nine text messages from twelve different people, either complimenting or mocking his dick. He set about deleting everything, save one: a message to Jamie Redknapp which read only this:

`I honestly hate you, by the way.`

Redders’ reply came straight away.

`Thanks for the laugh, Gaz. I needed that.`

`You're a bastard.`

` Go on. `

`You’re vile.`

`You still want a photo of my dick? `

`Go to hell.`

`See you there, you dirty little devil `

And with that, Gary pitched his phone across his room and decided to never ever again participate in the absolute shitshow that is sexting. Some things were just better left to the younger generation.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on a flight from Honolulu to Anchorage after [Anemoi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Anemoi/) inspired this madness. Just picture me on a plane over the Pacific writing this crap.
> 
> Also think of this as a belated celebration of Carra's birthday! :3


End file.
